Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 21 text:

THE B RANK SOME SLOGAN 19 Galloping along a lonely country road we came to a little side path, and being venturesome spirits, urged our horse.s through the bushes covered with vines and wild creepers, and came on an old broken-dow n cottage. All around it were signs of neglect and desolatiou. We tied our horses in a dilapidated old stable at the rear of the house, and wandered up and down the deserted garden paths. So this was thej haunted house of which we had heard so much ! The place certainly gave ground for people ' s superstitions. Dead leaves were strewn everywhere, the autumn wind moaned plain- tively through the bare branches of the trees as if crying for a lost soul, and dusk had already overtaken us. My companion glanced nervously around and suggested in a subdued voice that we leave the place and proceed on our way. We were both well armed, however, and, not being superstitious myself. I felt a strong desire to explore the cottage. After a few minutes ' hesi- tation my companion consented, and we ascended the three rickety steps that led to the porch. The house itself was but two storeys in height, and if it had ever been painted the sun, wind and rain had done their work w ell, for the place had taken on that nondescript color which comes from long exposure to all kinds of weather. The few win- dows had been broken long ago, and cobwebs had taken the place of the glass. We pushed the old wooden door. With a mournful groan it swung slowly back on its rusty hinges, and we found ourselves in a long, dark passage. Just then a gust of wind blew in. What ' s that? exclaimed Philip, pulling me roughly by the sleeve, and starting back. He pointed to a doorway ahead, and I saw something white waving to and fro, Richard, I refuse to go any farther, he announced, this may be a den of thieves, Philip, I retorted, exasperated by his foolishness, that is nothing more nor less than a piece of paper blown by the wind. You forget that the door is open. Philip is younger than I and apt to be silly at times. We went on, A large square room opened off either side of the hall, dimly lighted by a single window, most of the plaster had fallen down, and beyond a pile of dirty rags in the corner of one room, we discovered nothing but filth and dust, which w ere in abundance everywhere. At the rear of the building one long room extended the width of the house. It had evidently been

Page 20 text:

18 T H E BRANKSOME SEOGAN sweater like those of the other fishermen — all the men on this island are fishermen — but, instead of the tieht-fitt ng- cap, he wore a, high silk hat. He was smoking a clay pipe which was about two feet in length and trimmed with paper flowers. On leaving Marken we crossed to Monnikidam, a quaint, little town, which is the proud possessor of one of those mechani- cal town clocks which one sees so often in Germany. eJust as the hour is about to strike two wooden knights, mounted on wooden horses with lances in their hands, pass and repass, and a little figure blows the hour on a trumpet. After spending a short time in Monnikidam we got on the trolley and in about an hour were back in Amsterdam once more, after a most enjoyable day. AINSLIE McMICHAEL. THE PREFECT ' S LAMENT. Oh, it ' s left, right, left. On Huntley and Bloor and Elm, And oh, but its hard for the girls in the rear. But it ' s harder for her at the helm. For its left, right, left, To the leaders it ' s misery, battle, For when they should sound like but one maiden ' s step. They sound like a whole herd of cattle ! G. McG.

Page 22 text:

20 THE BRANKSOME SLOGAN the kitchen, for in one corner lay a heap of rust-eaten iron which might once have been a stove. From this room there v as a flight of stairs going up. They looked rather shaky, however, and I would have turned back, but now the spirit of adventure had entered Philip ' s soul, and he eagerly protested against such a thought. Indeed we won ' t, said he, his voice expressing fine scorn; so up those shaky old wooden steps we went. The steps objected and creaked ominously, but the top was reached in safety. Upstairs it was black as pitch, and the atmosphere very close ; rats scurried past, and once or twdce we espied the bright eyes of a garter snake. Light a match, Philip, I said, and let us see the place. Philip did so. As the flame blazed up we discovered a short passage in front of us with a room opening on either side of it. The place was as silent as the grave and our voices and footsteps echoed and reechoed through the deserted house. Cautiously Philip opened the door on the right side — just then the match burned out — I struck another. Its light fell on a room similar to the one below with the exception of its slanting roof. We passed out, disappointed. The other will be the same, let ' s go, it ' s getting lat . Philip ' s tone expressed baffled anticipation and discontent. I, however, struck my last remaining light, and opening the other door looked in. Philip! I shouted, Philip! ' ' Philip, w ho was halfway down the stairs, tore up again, three steps at a time. What ' s the matter? he cried, alarmed. There I stood shaking, yes, I must admit it. I always claim it was the cold, but Philip is apt to argue on this point. Philip, there is a man in that room, I whispered. A man or ghost, with a light, too. I never saw a more murderous-looking face in my life. Ghost! nothing! scoffed Philip, as he kicked the door open, first, however, drawing his pistol. Expecting to see Philip murdered I had mine ready also to defend him as best I could. What, then, was my surprise when he burst out into a peal of laughter. I peered cautiously over his shoulder, and his lighted match revealed — a full-length mirror. Ho! Ho! roared Philip, that ' s a good one! Murderous- looking ghost ! Ila ! ha ! Of course after a survey of the room, I was bound to admit I had been mistaken. Why will people leave their mirrors be- hind when they vacate a house? ALLEEN ERB.